


Lawful Orders

by tree



Category: JAG
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harm: I will, of course, obey any lawful orders that you give me, Ma'am.<br/>Mac: I’ll try to keep them all lawful then.<br/>--Rules of Engagement</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lawful Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Occurs in a magical land between 'The Return' and 'Contemptuous Words'. Basically, I just thought it was hot that Mac outranked Harm for a while. No military protocols were harmed (heh) in the making of this fic.
> 
> Many thanks to catie56 for reading this even though she has no idea who these people are.

2237 Zulu  
JAG Headquarters  
Falls Church, Virginia

 

"Ensign Isles claims he gave her an order," Mac says.

They're sitting at the conference table, chairs turned to face each other. The table is scattered with papers, files, and empty coffee cups. Harm feels a headache building behind his eyes and tries to rub it away.

"Even if that's true, Mac, it's not a lawful order. Why didn't she report the harassment?"

Mac shakes her head and pushes away from the table. Harm turns to study her warily. She takes a few steps down the length of the room, away from him. There's more than just this distance between them now, as if the time he'd spent on the carrier was years rather than months. He doesn't know how to bridge it. There are times, like tonight, when he's not sure he wants to.

"You make it sound easy, Harm. If she _had_ reported it, what evidence could she have produced? Remarks that can be waved off as jokes? Touches that could be construed as innocent or accidental?" She turns back to him and sighs. "It's the same story every time. If a woman ignores harassment, she's allowing it to happen. If she speaks up, she can't take a joke."

"The Navy takes sexual harassment claims seriously, Mac. You know that."

"Do I?"

He's genuinely shocked. "You're implying it doesn't?"

"I'm saying that a lot of incidents are never reported precisely because bringing attention to them will only make matters worse in the long run."

"But if there's a pattern of behaviour, there must be witnesses."

Mac gives him an incredulous look and crosses her arms. "Really? Think about it, Harm. How often are we alone together: in my office or your office or here in the conference room? Early in the morning or late at night when there's no one else around. Right now it's eighteen fifty-eight and there's no one here but you and me. Who else would know what went on?"

"Why didn't she leave, then?" he asks. "If she found herself alone with him, why not simply go somewhere else?"

"She didn't feel she had that option."

"What the hell does that mean?" At the look on Mac's face, he tries to rein in his frustration. "I'm not unsympathetic toward the Ensign. But there's no evidence, nothing that points to coercion. All we have are her uncorroborated claims. The Commander admits to fraternisation but says the affair was consensual."

"Maybe Commander Williams abused his command influence to get that consent."

Out of patience, Harm slumps forward and holds his head in his hands. "Mac, what do you want me to say? We wouldn't even make it to an Article 32 hearing with what we've got." He blows out a noisy breath and sits up. The conference room is barely lit -- he hadn't noticed it getting dark. Half in shadow, Mac seems more remote than ever. God he's tired.

"Why are you so invested in this case?" he asks quietly.

"Why aren't you?"

It's not an answer but Harm doesn't push. He's learned a few things about Sarah MacKenzie over the years.

After a few moments of silence she walks over to stand beside his chair, forcing him to look up at her. It's an unfamiliar position for him, unsettling somehow. Even in heels, she only comes up to his chin.

"Harm," she begins, then pauses and looks away.

There's something wrong, he knows. When she won't look him in the eye there's always something wrong. He moves his hand with some vague idea of touching her, but she steps back slightly as she turns to face him again and the touch goes nowhere.

"We're colleagues," she says. "Friends."

He nods even though it isn't a question, even though some days he's not sure if the latter is really true.

"Because of that, even though technically I outrank you, it's not an issue between us."

Privately he thinks it is an issue, for him anyway. Not her promotion -- he's proud of her, happy for her -- but that she kept it from him. He's surprised by how much the omission stings.

"At work we're equals," she continues, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Until maybe one night we're working late and something happens. A touch that's a little too familiar." One finger traces his earlobe with the lightest pressure. "Maybe I tell you I've always wondered what it would be like between you and me."

The tip of her finger barely touches him, but he feels it all the way down his spine. Her eyes are the colour of whiskey in the low light. When she starts to speak again, he finds his gaze has drifted to her mouth.

"Maybe you laugh it off as a joke. Maybe you tell me you're flattered but we need to finish writing up this report. You don't take it seriously because it can't be serious."

She's leaning into him now, pressed against the arm of the chair and his side. Her breasts are practically in his face. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to focus on her eyes and smile. "Look, Mac, this--"

She interrupts him with a gentle shove. "Is that how you address a superior officer, Sailor?" Her tone is playful, indulgent, but she's absolutely serious. Her other hand moves across his chest and toys with his top button. "The proper way to address me is Colonel MacKenzie, or Colonel, or ma'am." Her fingers slide inside his collar.

"Yes ma'am," he manages. It sounds a little strangled.

"So here we are all alone." Her voice is quiet, smoky. "Working late. It feels comfortable. Intimate."

Harm swallows convulsively.

"I tell you I've been thinking about kissing you, touching you. I can't stop thinking about it." She brushes his bottom lip lightly with her thumb. "Tell me you haven't thought about it too."

He can't catch his breath. Something is very wrong here, but his brain is turning to mush.

"That would be inappropriate," he tells her, tells himself. "Ma'am."

"No one has to know," she whispers. "I won't tell."

"It's against regulations."

"It's just a kiss."

"We can't."

"Can’t we?"

"I mean we shouldn't."

"Why not? Don't tell me you don't want to." Somehow Mac has shifted so she's standing over him, straddling his thigh. His hands are clenched into fists. He's so hard it's humiliating.

"Just once," she murmurs into his ear. "Just to see what it's like."

She pulls back and her eyes are dark, intent; her lips red and wet. He's shaking.

"Kiss me," she says against his mouth. "That's an order."

He obeys.


End file.
